


The Cazflibs Pick n' Mix

by cazflibs



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2018-12-30 03:46:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 9,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12100017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cazflibs/pseuds/cazflibs
Summary: A collection of my drabbles and ficlets posted on LJ and Tumblr which I shall add to as and when I scribble more. Chapters are named after the prompt I was given.





	1. Lister and Rimmer at Christmas

Rimmer tossed the napkin onto the table, his stomach having thrown in the towel long ago. 

“That has to be Kryten’s best Christmas lunch yet.” He picked at his teeth warily. “Although I hope that wasn’t space weevil in the stuffing – “

Lister grabbed the whipped cream from the table. “I told Kryten we’d head back to our quarters for puddin’,” he smirked.

Rimmed frowned, confused, as he strode purposefully to the doorway. “Er - Lister?” he called. “You’ve forgotten the mince pies.”

The tone said it all. “We don’t need mince pies.”

“Oh?” The hologram blinked. “Ohhh.”


	2. He'd finished - with a full two minutes to spare, even

Rimmer couldn't believe it. He'd attempted it so many times but maybe, just maybe this time he'd cracked it.

He'd finished - with a full two minutes to spare, even. His nostrils flared as wide as his smug, self-satisfied grin. Time-keeping was a most officer-like trait.

Lister's head peered out from under the bedsheet, mouth slick. "Tell me you're not sticking to your timetable even for sex?"

Rimmer checked off mentally. 22:00 - sexual interlude. 22:12 - continue wrapping Christmas presents. After all, the big day waited for no man.


	3. For one moment, Lister had looked into Rimmer's face and seen something not unakin to a soul.

For one moment, Lister had looked into Rimmer's face and seen something not unakin to a soul.

It was a strange sensation – engaging in an act so primal and instinctive and natural to life, with someone devoid of it. Yet in all the years Lister had known the man since his death, he’d never seen Rimmer look so alive. 

Although – judging by the look on Rimmer’s face as he continued to pump away with his hand - he was about to die a little death all over again. With every stroke, Lister found himself wondering what it would be like to see Rimmer – 

Ah.

Well that was rather realistic.


	4. "I didn't intend to kiss you"

The pair of them had been completely pished…

…which probably explained why the hologram had acted on an impulse that, for a very, VERY long time, had been held back, chained down, and beaten with a stick.  
Despite the twelve pints of lager that were currently sloshing around his system, Lister blinked back at him with a sudden stark clarity. 

“Um…Rimmer?” he slurred. “Didj-didju just…?”

Rimmer shook his head quickly, suddenly far too sober. “No-no-no-no,” he clarified, in the distinct absence of anything more elaborate to say. “You’re mish-miz-mistak – wrong. You see – ” He held aloft a swaying yet terribly authoritative finger. “ – I didn’t intend to kiss you.”

“You sure?” Lister mumbled, not quite sure how to unpick the tangled mess of emotions that were currently knotted in his stomach. “Your lipses was touchin’ my lipses. In my book thatsh pretty much a kiss.”

“In FACT - ” Ploughing onwards, the authoritative finger was gesturing quite wildly now. “I was testing to see if youse was still breathing.” Rimmer dragged himself unsteadily upright and stared back at him in triumph. “Youse had a lot to drink, Listy, and the Firsht Aid pamphletsss-says to feel the air with - ” He blinked unsteadily, confused. “ - with your mouth.”

“That'sh with your cheek, y'smegger,” Lister chided before eyeing him dubiously. “But it wassabit obvious, Shhherlock, by the fact I was lookin’ right at yer.”

A nervous tongue darted out to wet his lips as Rimmer swayed visibly. “I wanted to be sure, y'see.”

“Oh.” Lister swallowed before the alcohol gave him the rush of confidence that he’d long needed. “Then why don’t you c'mere and check again?”

And so Rimmer did. And again. And again. 

After all, it was best to be thorough in these situations.


	5. "Never mind, the moment's gone."

“For goodness sake!” Rimmer screeched. “Not only do I find you slobbing around, half-naked in my bunk YET AGAIN, but eating ice cream in it too?” His lip curled in disgust. “Look at you! Even chimps are more capable of eating with greater finesse! It’s all down your chest and everything!”

Lister shot him a chastising look. “It’s whipped cream, actually.”

“Your point being?”

There was a loaded pause. “That I thought you’d prefer a more private alternative to tonight’s dessert?” Lister’s face clouded. “That was, before you started insultin’ me.”

Rimmer’s mouth slowly dropped open as he began to sample the platter that had been laid out for him. With a quick dart of the tongue to wet his lips, he began to back-pedal faster than a cyclist in a time-inverted reality. “N-not that I didn’t find that immediately irresistible - ”

Clambering out of the bed as fast as a body covered in cream would allow, Lister pushed past him. “Never mind, the moment’s gone,” he grumbled, unhooking the towel before thundering into the shower room.

As the cream began to slide seductively down the plug hole with the suds, Lister’s eyebrows raised at the hologram’s mumbled voice echoing from the bunk room. He had no idea the man had such a plethora of self-profanities.

He rolled his eyes. Perhaps a double shower session wouldn’t be out of the question. Lister grinned wickedly. Especially when he could call in a very VERY big favour.


	6. "But why does everyone have to be naked?"

Lister always forgot the rule. NEVER make bets when playing RISK with Arnold J Rimmer.

Great. Now that Rimmer had won his choice of vid, instead of ‘Casablanca’, he was in for an evening stuck watching some duller than dull documentary on ‘The Wars of the Ancient Roman Empire’.

Lister grinned to himself. Unless, of course, he managed to switch the vid selection when his lover wasn’t looking.

Rimmer’s face looked like he’d caught a whiff of Lister’s moon boots as he stared at the screen dubiously. “Are you sure you’ve chosen the right vid, Lister?”

The Scouser stifled a smirk. “Yeah, course I did,” he lied. “Look, those guys are wearing those vine crown thingys, it’s gotta be Ancient Rome.”

Hazel eyes blinked rapidly. “But why does everyone have to be naked? And WHAT is Julius Caesar doing with that staff?”

Lister bit his lip in thinly veiled innocence. Red Dwarf had quite the plethora of themed pornography in its vid-library. It wouldn’t be long until Rimmer’s evening plans would be thwarted and his attentions negotiated in a different direction.

After all - he may have lost the game, but he always won the war.


	7. "You're supposed to talk me out of this."

Rimmer bit his lip hard. “I’m pretty scared, Listy.”

“I know, man.” Lister nodded quickly. His entire jaw was locked tense, hoping to dam back the tears that threatened to flow. “Me too.”

“You’re supposed to talk me out of this.” Rimmer’s voice was quivering audibly now, despite his best attempts to steady it. 

Lister’s words had always held that power over him; that ability to sway his thoughts so easily. Why couldn’t he do that now? One word. That’s all it would take.

Lister swallowed hard; his silence sacrificing everything he’d ever dared to care for. He held out the famous blonde, floppy wig with a shaking hand.

“You heard what he said,” he mumbled. “It’s your destiny.”


	8. Ace/Bongo. A dimension where Bongo finally catches a break.

At the sound of the door, Bongo furiously started scribbling in his diary. Mellie raised a curious eyebrow before stilling her face in sincerity.

“Sir, I’m afraid I’m going to have to - ”

“ - tender your resignation,” Bongo cut in with a knowledgeable sigh. The words slipped out like a well-rehearsed script. “Please leave your key card with HR, your final cheque will be posted to you.”

Mellie nodded with a polite smile which soon stretched solicitously. “I’ll just be on my lunch break, sir,” she smirked, biting her lip.

As she slipped out the door, Bongo sighed. “That’s the third P.A. I’ve lost this year,” he groused. He wouldn’t mind but it was only April. Bongo glanced down between his legs. “Do you know how hard they are to come by?”

The golden waves of hair lifted back as Ace drew back to regard him, mouth slick. “Not as hard as I can make you come, Bongo,” he quipped smoothly. 

Bongo sank back into his absurdly expensive leather chair as the Commander diligently returned to his post. “I’ll phone the agency in the morning,” he sighed happily.


	9. Rimmer is making pancakes for Lister

Lister’s eyes pinched curiously. “Whatcha doin’?”

Standing over the tiny hob in Starbug’s kitchenette, Rimmer whipped back to face him. “Nothing,” he mumbled quickly.

Craning to one side, Lister pointed an indicative finger to the smoke that was beginning to curl up behind him. “Well, ‘nothing’ appears to be burning.”

“Smeg!” Rimmer swivelled back to his task, quickly whipping it off the heat. 

Lister hooked his chin over the man’s shoulder for a better look. “Aww, pancakes?!” he sang happily.

“Well that’s debatable,” Rimmer groused, lip pouted. “Without any oil supplies, they’re sticking terribly.”

“Here, let me have a go.” Lister grabbed the handle eagerly. “I bet I can get it loose.”

“No, Lister, don’t - !”

It was too late. With an almighty toss, the pancake launched into the air…

…and stuck with an audible splat on the kitchen ceiling. The pair stood motionless, watching it, blinking.

Rimmer sighed sadly. “Well, that’s breakfast ruined,” he mourned. “That was the only edible one out of the whole batch.”

“Don’t worry, man,” Lister soothed. Grabbing the squirty cream with one hand and the hologram’s hand with the other, he dragged him solicitously towards the staircase. “I’ve got another idea for breakfast,” he winked.

As they passed the Cat on the stairs, they just about managed to suppress their giggles. The feline shot them a strange look before disappearing into the kitchenette.

Just as they reached the bunkroom door, the pair started at the shocked piercing squeal that howled up the staircase. They glanced at one another with a guilty smirk. Perhaps it hadn’t been so stuck after all.

“WHAT THE HELL IS - ?” The Cat’s yowling voice tailed off, before: “Ooh! Pancakes!”


	10. Ace teaches Kryten to play piano

It didn’t take long of course. With Kryten’s impeccable mechanical mind, his CPU had committed the note positions and hand movements to memory in under an hour.

After centuries of silence, the elegant grand piano of ‘Parrots’ Bar sung once again as the mechanoid perfectly recalled the tune that Ace had demonstrated for him to copy.

Sat beside him on the stool, the man nodded with a smile. “Beautiful, Krytie,” he praised. “You’ve got an extraordinary talent there, my old fruit salad.”

Kryten batted the compliment away, suddenly bashful. “Oh nonsense, sir,” he dismissed humbly, despite his fluster. “It’s far easier for a mechanoid to learn such things.”

“Ah, but it’s the soul of the music that you convey so easily,” Ace replied, his voice as smooth as caramel. He flicked back the blonde bangs that tumbled across his eyes. “Makes me look like a schoolboy novice.”

Kryten shook his head at the man’s modesty as Ace began to play another beautiful composition. The face he’d been far too used to seeing so tightly knotted and frowning was remarkably peaceful and distant on this incarnation.

“Mr Ace, sir?” Kryten ventured quietly. He squirmed awkwardly on the stool before adding, “Have you ever seen Casablanca?”

The curious pinch of Ace’s brow was almost imperceptible. He didn’t answer. Instead, he replied in music, his long thin fingers faultlessly playing ‘As Time Goes By’.

A pained sigh heaved through the mechanoid’s body as neon blue eyes committed the notes to memory. Eventually, cubed fingers reached out to continue the melody and Ace drew back to let him.

As the final notes echoed away into silence, Kryten gently lowered the lid over the keys, closing that chapter of his life until another lonely night.

With a comprehending smile, Ace patted a soothing hand on his arm. “What did I say, old boy?” he assured, his voice now low and quiet. “Such soul.”


	11. The Cat finds silky stockings. Kryten gets to use the delicates cycle.

The Cat admired his reflection for the hundredth time that afternoon. He had to admit, the black stockings and suspenders had been the best ever find in the whole of today. He ran an admiring hand up the length of his leg. Not only were they comfortingly smooth to touch but DAMN did they made his ass look fine.

The feline stretched into a yawn before blinking sleepily. He’d been so preoccupied with his special find that he’d completely neglected his nap time. 

The Cat glanced around the Sleeping Quarters before his eyes lit upon the militarily-straightened sheets of the lower bunk. With a resigned shrug he crawled happily under the covers, stretching out luxuriously before falling into a deep, contented sleep. If Grand Canyon Nostrils got mad then so be it.

A couple of hours later, Rimmer had hurried into the Sleeping Quarters to fetch his report book when he spotted the snoozing lump in his bed. Frowning, he stood over the bed, arms folded.

“Alright, Lister,” he reprimanded. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. What have I told you about sleeping on the job?” He made a great show of checking his watch. “It’s only 16:47, m’laddo. You’re supposed to still be on – ”

The words spluttered and died on his lips as he lifted the edge of the sheet. But instead of coming face to face with Lister’s drooling snores, he was instead rather surprised to be greeted by the promising beginnings of some silk black stockings.

Interest stirred in the tight restraints of his boxers as a solicitous smile inched across his face. “Oh, my,” he muttered, heat beginning to pulse through his veins as he tossed aside his report book. If his lover’s dereliction of duty was actually a ruse for enticing him into bed, then he was happy to forgo the punishment.

Or perhaps he’d have to dish out a more fitting punishment.

He ran long probing fingers up the back of Lister’s leg, relishing the smooth, sensual sensation of the silk as they inched closer towards his arse. Funny how they made his legs appear so much slimmer and longer. “What are up to, you naughty boy?” he prompted, voice huskily low.

“I could ask the same of you,” chirped the amused Scouse tones from the doorway.

Rimmer jumped wildly like a startled cartoon cat; but not half as wildly as the feline in his bed that had been wrenched from its sleep. The pair first yelled their surprise before clocking one another’s faces and yelling once again.

Lister hadn’t laughed that hard in years.

The Cat had scorned the stockings and exiled them to the washbasket. Much to the excitement of the mechanoid.

“Delicates!” he cried happily as he sorted the dirty clothes into wash piles the next day. “What an exciting turn of events!”

Kryten selected the unused cycle as carefully and respectfully as if he’d been washing the Queen’s smalls. And as the washing machine started up its business on the tiny wisps of silk, he patted the machine soothingly.

“I know, Frank,” he grinned. “Me too.”


	12. After Samsara, the Cat wants to know what the skeletons were really up to.

Having returned safely from the SS Samsara, Lister and Rimmer hadn’t long sat down to a cup of tea when the Cat joined them at the table. “Can I ask you guys a question?”

Rimmer sighed irritably. “If you must.”

Despite the friendly façade for his feline companion, Lister gave the hologram a reprimanding kick under the table. “Course, man. Any time.”

“If those skeletons back there weren’t playing Twister,” the Cat mused, “what WERE they doing?”

Alarmed, Rimmer almost spat out his tea. Lister, however, nodded in calm understanding. “So you wanted us to - ” As the taller man leapt to his feet, Lister grabbed him by the sleeve and hauled him back down into his chair. “So you wanted US to explain that to you?”

“Well you monkeys seem to know about this weird human stuff,” the Cat grimaced. “So what’s it all about?”

Rimmer tilted up his tea to drink. “The floor’s all yours, Listy,” he mumbled into the mug.  


“And if you want to enjoy a more practical re-enactment tonight,” Lister whispered pointedly through a false smile, “I suggest you help me.”

Grinding his teeth, Rimmer sighed his relent. “Well sometimes, humans have certain - ” He swallowed, embarrassed. “ - needs that require attending to.” He swivelled back to the Scouser brightly. “Which Listy will happily elaborate on.”

Lister rolled his eyes. “When it comes to that special kind of attention, sometimes there’s areas that can’t be, y’know - ” He inclined his head southwards. “ - reached.”

Under the weight of the Cat’s focused concentration, Lister squirmed as his words began to falter. Perhaps when it came to having The Talk, he wasn’t quite so enlightened after all. “So sometimes, in order to help out, humans use their - ” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “ - their tongues,” he concluded with a mutter.

“Ohhhhh!” The Cat cried, illumination lighting up his features as he grinned. “So they were grooming one another!”

Lister and Rimmer exchanged glances. “Yeah,” they replied in unison with a hurried nod of the head. “Absolutely.”


	13. Ace and Spanners get it on in Wildfire

“I knew you’d sprinkle your magic here, Spanners,” Ace smiled confidently as hazel eyes roamed Wildfire’s dashboard. “I wouldn’t trust any crate that hadn’t been serviced by those remarkably clever hands of yours. You’re the core of the Corps and no mistake.”

Balanced on the service ladder beside the cockpit, Spanners felt a flush of heat through his cheeks. “I’m just the wrench monkey,” he batted back humbly. “A behind-the-scenes bod that nobody gives two smegs about.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Ace said smoothly, his voice silken yet commanding as his eyes bored into him.

Blinking, Spanners cleared his throat self-consciously before tearing away his gaze. “Up to speed with it all, Ace?”

“I think I’ve cracked it,” Ace mulled distantly. “But I can’t seem to locate the Fuel Isolator.”

“Oh!” Cursing the ladder’s stunted height, Spanners drew himself up to point his finger to the dashboard by the man’s far knee. “It’s right there.”

“Whereabouts, old chum?”

Pulling his weight onto the tips of his boots, Spanners stretched out a hand to reach across. “It’s right over – ” Losing his balance, he fell into the cockpit with a strangled yell, landing inelegantly in Ace’s lap. Unable to tear away from the Commander’s charged gaze, Spanners gestured vaguely over his shoulder, unseeing. “ – there.”

“Ah yes,” Ace replied, his attention firmly focused on the man in his lap. “There it is.”

The silence between them was more potent than it had ever been. A single spark would send the pair up in flames. 

Eventually, Ace arched a calm yet solicitous eyebrow. “Anyone else’s repairs on the books in the next hour?” 

‘Three,’ noted his mental diary. “No,” Spanners muttered hurriedly, his mouth clearly on auto-pilot.

With a warm smile, Ace reached across and flicked the switch that drew closed the cockpit door.

And ten minutes later, the glass had steamed up somewhat as Wildfire’s landing gear suspension was put through a most unorthodox testing routine.


	14. Lister catches Rimmer singing "Rasta Billy Skank".

“If you like Rasta Billy…” 

The pair had been sat in silence on the sofa until Rimmer began absently singing the discordant tune. Lowering his magazine curiously, an amused grin stretched across Lister’s face as the man hummed, frowning over his revision notes.

“We can just stick the tape on if you want?” Lister prodded.

Falling silent, the hologram blinked up to him curiously. “What?”

“I didn’t realise that ‘you like Rasta Billy’,” he teased, echoing the same tune.

Cavernous nostrils flared in disgust. “I detest that trash, you stupid gimboid.”

“Oh yeah?” Lister pressed, arching an interrogative eyebrow over the rim of his magazine. “Then why are you hummin’ it then?”

Cursing under his breath, Rimmer squirmed self-consciously. “It’s a stupid smegging earworm,” he muttered, embarrassed. Sighing as he flicked back over the last couple of pages, he realised that he’d obviously absorbed nothing in the last ten minutes. “My poor brain can obviously think of nothing else!”

“Maybe you just wanna shag all night?” Lister smirked as he resumed reading.

Rimmer blinked back to him, startled. “I beg your pardon?” He could have sworn his voice was usually a couple of octaves lower than that.

Chuckling at his obvious unease, Lister took pity on the man. “It’s the name of the song,” he explained, “I Wanna Shag All Night.” He sidled up to him suggestively. “Unless, of course, that’s your way of suggestin’ an early night - ?” 

It turned out that Rimmer could hit some rather impressive notes in bed.


	15. Rimmer/Todhunter after the Gazpacho Soup incident

Todhunter leant against the supply cupboard doorway with a sigh and knocked patiently.

“Smeg off,” came the snapped yet shaking reply.

“Arnold, I am your superior officer,” he reminded gently. “A little more decorum please?”

There was a considered pause. “Smeg off, SIR.”

Todhunter snorted warmly. That would do. “I’m going to come in now, okay?” He palmed open the door and stepped inside to join him. As the man hurriedly swiped at his eyes and scowled back, Todhunter rolled his eyes. “It’s not that big a deal, you know?”

“They were all laughing at me!” Rimmer protested. He leant back against the wall with a sigh. “Who am I kidding? I shouldn’t have been there anyway.”

“Well that’s a tad rude, Arnold,” Todhunter reprimanded softly before turning to face him.   
“Seeing as I’m the one who requested that you were invited.”

Rimmer blinked twice. “You - ? Me - ? Why?” he spluttered.

Fixing him with a solicitous smirk, Todhunter edged towards him. “Isn’t it obvious?”

The door had barely closed before there was a clatter of brooms and boxes that soon dissolved into elicit gasps and moans.

Four months later, Rimmer glared at the same supply cupboard door where Todhunter and Dave Lister, his new bunkmate, stood chatting flirtatiously. After a suggestive whisper in the shorter man’s ear, the pair chuckled wickedly and disappeared inside.

Rimmer squirmed against his now obvious erection with a scowl. That was the precise moment when he decided that he hated them both.


	16. Lister and Rimmer having a tif over who gets to be the big spoon when they cuddle.

“It just makes the most sense, Listy,” Rimmer maintained with a barely-concealed grin. “After all, I'm taller than you!”

“But you're always Big Spoon!” Lister whined.

“Well, I'm always taller!” Rimmer sniffed triumphantly. “So what's the issue?”

Lister folded his arms and pouted petulantly. “Well, maybe I wanna get the chance to cuddle you for once in a blue smeggin’ moon!” 

Rolling his eyes, Rimmer sighed his relent. “I'll tell you what, mi’laddo,” he proposed, waggling a long finger confidently. “We’ll flip a metaphorical coin. If we’re attacked next by GELFs, then you get to be Big Spoon. If we’re attacked next by simulants, then it's votres truly who gets to be Big Spoon. Deal?”

Rimmer struggled to hold back his weasel smile as the Scouser carefully mulled this over. There were certainly perks to be had when it came to looking after Navigation. Starbug had long since passed GELF country; there was no chance in Silicon Hell that Listy’s hairier spouse would put in an appearance any time soon.

Lister rubbed at the stubble of his chin with a trusted trio of forefingers and thumb. “What if it's a rogue virus?”

“For smeg’s sake, don't over-complicate it.”

“Okay,” Lister nodded with a smile. “Deal.”

Nine hours and one GELF battalion encounter later, Lister hummed his appreciations as he snuggled the sulking hologram in the stunted cradle of his body. “Comfortable there, Little Spoon?” he smirked.

“Oh, fork off,” Rimmer sighed grumpily. When making overly-confident navigational declarations, he really should have learnt by now to make sure he was looking at the right panel.


	17. After the events of "Cured", Lister belatedly realises that "Hitler" had a thing for him

“He was just being nice, that's all!” Lister insisted with a loose shrug. “The guy just wanted someone to jam with -- ”

“Yes,” Rimmer nodded knowingly. “In his Sleeping Quarters.” 

Dark eyes blinked their innocence. “It's where he kept his guitars!”

Rimmer shook his head with a snort. “And you say that I'M the clueless one when it comes to these things.”

“And how am I being clueless, exactly?” Lister frowned.

“Oh come on, Listy. He was giving you that look.”

“What ‘look’?”

Rimmer arched an eyebrow. “The same look as when he was eyeing up Denmark. ‘Take from the South and conquer in a few short hours’.”

Lister folded his arms defensively as he considered this. Well, maybe the guy has been a TAD friendly and heavy on the compliments. 

Regaining his ground, he flashed the taller man a cocky grin. “Well, I reckon I was more of a ‘Russia’ when I came up against his bedding strategy. ‘Impenetrable and cold-shouldered’.” At Rimmer’s open-mouthed gape of shock, he winked wickedly. “And there's you thinkin’ I didn't read that book on ‘Famous Battles of History’ that you got me last Christmas.”

A low growl purred in the hologram’s chest as he surged forward to claim the man in a conquering embrace. “God, I love it when you talk military campaigns,” he ground out hotly.

Lister smirked as the man mapped out the stretch of his neck with territorial kisses and nips. It was probably unsurprising that ‘Hitler’ had a ‘thing’ for him. After all, he did have a history of attracting power-hungry dictators.


	18. Can I request some sort of nose-kisses story where Rimmer is thoroughly embarrassed by Lister's obsession with randomly kissing his nose?

“Why do you do it, Lister?” the hologram demanded. 

Lister knew exactly what the man was angling at but plastered on an innocent look regardless. “Do what?”

“Those ridiculous kisses on my nose.” Self-conscious fingers touched upon the offending feature lightly before dropping with a scowl. “Even just then, when I was explaining to you all the importance of following the Health & Safety procedures for cockpit chair positioning. In front of the others! Why do you do it?”

Rimmer’s hands pumped open and closed in agitation as the shorter man fell suspiciously quiet. It had seemed like such a random pattern of occurrence for so long, but recently he'd begun to suspect that there was some other force in play.

Then suddenly, as he noticed Lister’s unwavering stare back, it all clicked. It had always happened when he’d been asserting himself. Whether it be quoting Space Corps Directives or identifying an actor in some stupid romance film, the nose-kisses all seemed to share the same common denominator.

“I get it,” Rimmer surmised smugly with a wag of the finger. “We may be knocking boots, but it's still a thing for you, isn't it? You can't stand it when you're wrong and I'm right!”

At Lister’s challenging poker face, Rimmer’s grin widened. “I knew it! That's why you insist on such a ridiculous gesture - because you KNOW you don't have anything left to say!” He folded his arms with a dismissive snort. “And here's you thinking that you can outsmart ol’ Arnie J.”

Holding his smile steadily, Lister stepped towards him and gave him a quick peck on the nose. “You got me,” he said simply with a brandish of arms.

At Rimmer’s triumphant grin, Lister chuckled to himself as he turned to calmly walk away. 

After all, he always gave the man a quick peck on the nose when he wanted him to think that he'd won.


	19. Lister gives Rimmer his first Christmas present

Another Christmas in deep space had come and passed. But this particular one had been somewhat special.

Not that the pair had celebrated this fact publicly. In these early days of the rela- well, whatever the smeg it was, it had been a day that had been marked with subtle shared smiles over the dinner table and brushes of hands underneath.

Leaving Kryten to pack up the decorations so that the ship was ready to welcome in yet another year amongst the stars, Lister slouched happily into the Sleeping Quarters. Pausing in the doorway, he blinked curiously as he caught the hologram fumbling something hurriedly into a box beneath his bunk.

“Whatcha doin’?”

Rimmer started guilty as he whipped back to look over his shoulder. “Nothing,” he muttered.

“It doesn’t look like nothin’ to me,” Lister smiled knowingly as he crouched down beside him. Catching sight of his Christmas gift to the man - a wooden Armee du Nord figurine that he’d salvaged from a derelict some months back - being thrust into a box, he tried not to let the hurt surface on his face. “Don’t you like it?”

“Of course I do,” Rimmer hushed back with an affronted frown.

“Then why are you just shovin’ in a box under your bunk then?” Lister blinked quickly. “I thought you were gonna put it on your shelf.”

“For that stupid moggy to knock over and break when he naps on my bunk?” Rimmer parried with an eyebrow. “Hardly.” He ran a loving thumb across the faded paint on the woodwork. “It’s far too precious for that.”

Lister’s head cocked curiously as he began to explore the contents of the box. He noticed the hologram stiffen beside him but remain silent. 

As the man plucked out a champagne cork and held it aloft, Rimmer sighed his relent. “From that party you threw me when I came back.” 

Lister nodded in understanding. His years away on his heroic secondment had been a time they’d both been happy to see the back of. Next, he unwrapped a tiny blue and white striped candle from the folds of old toilet tissue. 

“From the first death-day cake you made me,” Rimmer mumbled.

A wave of nostalgia washed through him, sending a lump bobbing up in Lister’s throat. He placed it gently back in the box before pulling out a small plastic key-ring. It was a tacky affair, emblazoned with the words ‘SOUVENIR OF TITAN’ in garish green letters.

“What’s this?” he asked, turning it over in his fingers.

“Don’t you remember?” Rimmer pressed. “The first Christmas we met.”

Lister chuckled happily as he held the two gifts side by side - the key-ring and the wooden figurine. “Our first Christmas together - ” He snuggled back into the buzzing warmth of the hologram’s chest. “ - and our first Christmas together.”


	20. Lister playfully teasing Rimmer for coming back to their dimension after skipping around. Rimmer confesses why he came back.

“So what made you decide to come back, eh?” Lister needled with a grin. “Couldn't bear to see me lordin’ over you when I was Captain?” he pressed. “Or didn't you like me as a toffee-tongued tosser?”

Rimmer simply stood in the face of the storm, staring back at the man he'd seen in a thousand different incarnations, and more. “I didn't love any of them like I love you.”

And with those ten simple words, the multiverse exploded into yet another colourful burst of options.

Of course, what happened next didn't have one definitive answer. Some universes would see the pair simply laugh if off awkwardly. Others would see a string of denial-ridden excuses spilling forth before one of them fumbled their way out of the door.

And some, of course, would see the pair drawn together in a long-denied mash of lips.


	21. Post Siliconia - Kryten takes advantage of the Cat's and Rimmer's mechanoid urges.

Approximately ten hours, according to the MediScanner. Ten hours until Mr Cat and Mr Rimmer would regain full mental faculties and return to their normal selves.

“Let ‘em get on with it,” Mr Lister had urged through a less-than-restrained smirk as the pair eagerly mopped and ironed mountains of frilly shirts. “They're happy enough. Go give yourself a day off and relax. You deserve it.”

Well. Seeing as it was an order…

Kryten drummed cubed fingers on his chest plate, deep in thought. What could he do with ten hours?

The morning was spent sitting in front of the Season 23 boxset of ‘Androids’. Sitting! The very idea! His diodes fizzed with excitement at the very prospect.

Next, he waddled over to the library and read. Not on scientific theories or space/time phenomenon; but fictional stories of far-off worlds and swashbuckling adventures.

A book caught his attention as he trailed excited fingers across the spines and he drew it out in inspection. ‘Gardening: A Beginner’s Guide’. Neon-blue eyes narrowed thoughtfully before lighting with the distant spark of an idea.

The others had found their ‘Siliconia’. Perhaps it was time to find his.

In his last few precious hours alone, he pottered about happily in the Botanical Gardens, setting up his new project. Before him stood a bare square of soil, peppered with little labels and pyramids of bamboo in preparation of what was to come.

Gently and lovingly patting the soil like a proud mother hen, he dusted off the compost from his hands and beamed with pride. It may not look like anything special right now, but soon it would burst into colour with all the fruit and vegetables that he had made grow.

“It's my garden,” he said to nobody in particular.


	22. After Lister is rescued from M-Corp and his memory regressed, he discovers at some point that he and Rimmer are an item…

Of course, it hadn’t taken him long to figure it out. Sneak peeks at the CCTV and his own hidden diary had put paid to that.

Now Rimmer’s occasional sideways glances of assessment all made sense. He'd been waiting for the right moment, when his updated memories would return.

At first, he'd found Rimmer’s aged face rather unnerving; although no more unnerving than his own when he’d first caught sight of his reflection. But now, his young mind found the change in the older man somewhat alluring. 

Unlike the Rimmer he knew - tightly wound-up, petty and shouting at every little misdemeanour - this Rimmer seemed teasingly different. Yes, he seemed to silently despair at his puppy-dog enthusiasm, but his begrudging was patient and unspoken. 

And since when did he actually UNDERSTAND the garbled spiel of Drive Room feedback that reeled constantly on the monitors? He’d catch him muttering unfamiliar navigational terms as he scribbled in his notepad. Lister had no idea what they meant, but the sound of him nodding his comprehension made something strange stir in his gut.

He hadn’t even snapped at him when he’d eaten cereal straight out of the packet. Instead, he'd wordlessly handed him the box and a cup of tea made precisely to his liking and said nothing more on the matter.

Dark eyes studied the man as he drank from his own steaming mug. Time had clearly carved out something new between the pair of them, and it was a Pandora’s Box that he was desperate to look into.

Taking a gamble, he slipped a wordless hand under the table and stroked it up the length of the man’s thigh. He watched, fascinated, as hazel eyes sank closed with a sigh of pleasure before darting back to him once more.

“You're back?” Rimmer’s words were hushed and guardedly cryptic.

Back to what, Lister was desperate to find out. “Yeah,” he lied, voice trembling.

And oh, how the man had learned to pleasure him in those years he was yet to live. There were slips of the finger and nips on parts of his skin that even HE didn't know could spark such electric pulses through his body.

Suddenly, for the first time in his life, he was rather looking forward to getting older.


	23. Rimmer quoting a Space Corps directive with an unintentional innuendo (he is oblivious to) for a few days before Lister is then forced to explain it amidst his giggles in a vain attempt to cause Rimmer any further embarrassment...?

With Lift 824 experiencing technical faults, Lister had happily volunteered for the repair job. After all, it was perfect practice ahead of his robotics exam next month.

It took him four hours in all, but finally the repair was complete. He beamed with pride as he stood back to wipe his brow with his wrist, before heading back up the corridor to find a vending machine who could grant him a much-needed cup of tea.

“And where do you think you're doing, mi’laddo?”

Lister blinked his confusion before wheeling round to face the hologram that glared at him expectantly. He jabbed a screwdriver over his shoulder in indication. “Gettin’ a cuppa. I'm gaspin’ here,” he explained before grinning happily. “Besides, the repair’s done. Turned out it was just a case of replacing the brake mechanism.”

“I'm quite aware that you've finished, Listy,” Rimmer parried back. “But are you not familiar with Space Corps Directive 22185?” At the Scouser’s blank look, he rolled his eyes with a tut. “It clearly states that ‘At the end of their repair task, Lift Engineers are expected to report to a Senior Officer to present the full workings of their shaft’.”

At first, Lister managed to retain a perfectly straight face whilst his eyes sparkled with mirth. But eventually it proved far too much to hold back and he allowed a carefully-controlled smile to stretch across his cheeks. “Are they now?” 

“Of course!” Rimmer bristled, straight-backed. He strode back to the lift door, waggling an authoritative finger. “So come on then, bucko. Show me your stuff.”

Calling for the lift, Lister’s playful eyebrow sprung to the sound of the arrival bell. “If you say so - ” he smirked as he strode inside, quickly yanking the bemused hologram in with him until their mouths were barely millimetres apart. “ - SIR.”

The lift doors quickly closed behind them before squealing off happily. Turns out, there were a fair amount of ‘shaft workings’ that could be demonstrated over the course of 257 floors.


	24. Could we have one where Rimmer’s password/security questions are all Lister related? The others (or just Lister) find out and tease him about it.

“You recall when I told you NOT to close the door behind us?” Rimmer’s eye twitched dangerously as he scowled over his shoulder.

With his arms folded to wedge frozen hands under his armpits against the chill of the Diesel Decks, Lister shrugged limply at the firmly sealed door. “It's the echo down here,” he protested lamely. “I thought you said to - ” At the hologram’s deepening scowl, he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Never mind.”

“Marvellous!” Rimmer spat. “Now we’re stuck down here with no way of communicating with Captain Bogbot to let us out!”

“How ‘bout this here?” Lister jabbed curiously at the ancient buzzing screen mounted onto the doorway before tutting in irritation. “Smeg, it’s asking for the passcode. Any ideas?”

Rimmer arched an eyebrow. “Oh, so suddenly I'm supposed to memorise every single passcode to this entire smegging ship?” 

“Okay, okay,” Lister soothed, his sigh of irritation flaring into a cloudy breath. “Well, it's got some security questions here. Let's try those.”

Eyes widening in alarm, Rimmer raced across to the console. “Or, y’know, we could just wait down here until Kryten lets us out!” he fumbled. “I'm sure a few hours down here won't do us any harm!”

“Rimmer!” the Scouser shivered, “I'm freezing to death here! Help me answer the smegging security questions!” 

The hologram fiddled nervously at his sleeve as Lister scrolled through the options. “Hang on,” he frowned. “...‘What is Lister’s star sign?’...‘What is Lister’s favourite meal?’...” Dark eyes blinked their shock. “...Whereabouts is Lister’s ‘I love Petersen’ tattoo?!’...” A snigger laced with embarrassment snorted forth into the chilly air. “Which strange smegger set these up…?”

Lister trailed off as he finally clocked the squirming silence of the man beside him. He watched, agape, as Rimmer awkwardly cleared his throat before tapping out the intimate answer with long, lean fingers.

As the door swished open nonchalant, Lister stared openly at the man as hazel eyes snagged on everything else apart from his own. “I better get to the Drive Room,” Rimmer mumbled. “I need to crack on with calibrating the -- ” his finger gestured loosely through the open doorway, “ -- calibrations.”

For once, Lister didn't call him out on it. Even if he'd wanted to, the insults failed to manifest on his tongue. He just nodded limply as the hologram raced up the corridor as fast as lanky legs could carry him.


	25. A Christmas Drabble

"Come on, Listy. It's almost 8pm!" The hologram rubbed his hands together with glee. "Next on the agenda is Risk!"

"Rimmer - " Lister groaned. "Do we have to follow a timetable on Christmas of all days? How about, y'know, enjoying it? Goin’ with the flow?"

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to ensure all activities are covered, mi'laddo." Rimmer snorted. "Besides, you don't hear me complaining about your obsessive decorating of the place. It looks like a pre-school craft table exploded in here."

"You've complained all week!"

"Only because you used my Health & Safety draft presentation papers to make your bunting."

"Okay, okay," Lister soothed. He shrugged gently. "Maybe next year, something a bit less - "

" - gaudy."  
" - structured."

At their entwined reactions, the pair shared a look of mild affront before dissolving into brandy-warmed chuckles. 

Rimmer nodded his relent. "Alright, Listy. Space Scout's honour: next Christmas there'll be no timetable."

Lister granted him an apologetic peck on the lips. "And I'll keep the decorations totally tasteful, I promise." 

He didn't mention his plan to get out his knitting set again. A line of woollen red pom-poms would look wonderful, adorning their shared bunk...


	26. Rimmer is still shy about kissing Lister in front of Cat and Kryten. Lister's solution to try to help him get him over this hang-up? Lots, and LOTS of mistletoe. I mean LOTS.

Rimmer had been quite insistent on the matter - some things were meant to be kept behind closed doors. Equally, Lister had been uncharacteristically insistent on his own beliefs - certain Christmas traditions were to be respected.

And so began the battle.

As Kryten dished up a steaming hot breakfast in the Sleeping Quarters and the Cat munched on some buttered toast, Lister patted the empty stool next to him.

“Come sit down, man,” he smiled at the yawning hologram. “I’ve got you a brew.”

“Oh! Thank you, Listy!” Warmth tickled at the icy frown that usually steeled his face in the mornings, and he plucked up the mug with a happy snort.

Taking an initial sip, his arse had barely graced the stool’s leather before Rimmer clocked the sprig of mistletoe dangling dangerously between them. He sprung urgently back to his feet once more.

“Actually,” he spluttered. “I-I’ll drink this in the Drive Room.”

Hurrying out the door, Rimmer missed the look of cheeky determination that calmly graced the man’s face.

Later that afternoon, the group were stood in the Science Room, poring over the reams of information that scrolled across each of their monitors. Something began to tease the peak of Rimmer’s peripheral vision before throwing a shadow across his screen and he glanced up curiously.

He immediately balked as he realised quite how close Lister was leaning in towards him. Dark eyes danced with mischief as they flitted up in indication to the suggestive sprig that loomed over their heads.

Glancing nervously at the Cat and Kryten’s expectant looks, the hologram awkwardly cleared his throat. “Well this all looks tickety-boo!” Rimmer strained through a false smile as he nodded to the monitor. “I better get back to the - um,” he gestured loosely over his shoulder before trailing out into the corridor, presumably to look for the remainder of his weak excuse.

He’d just been heading for the Sleeping Quarters, when an unreasonably collected female voice wafted over the speakers.

“Please remain calm,” the woman soothed. “Could all crew members please evacuate the ship at your earliest convenience. Remember to mind your step as not to trip over any dead bodies. Thank you for listening.”

“Oh, thank smeg for that,” Rimmer gasped with relief as he pelted down the corridor towards the Landing Bay. A stand-off with simulants or a get-to with GELFs would be far more preferable to an uncomfortably public smooch.

Safely in Starbug, Rimmer thumped down into his navigation station, swallowing back airless gasping breaths. “What’s the emergency?”

The co-pilot chair span back to face him, nonchalant. “That I’m absolutely DYING for a smegging snog,” Lister grinned.

Blinking his surprise, Rimmer’s confused gaze bounced between the smirking feline and a mechanoid who was currently making a smegging mockery out of the phrase ‘look innocent’.

His face sagged in a sigh of realisation before glancing up at the offending article that he instinctively knew would be hung there.

“Lister,” he ground out, eyes sinking closed. “I must have met hundreds of versions of you over the years, and I can quite categorically state that you are THE most infuriating incarnation in the entire multiverse.” Peeling them open to fix the man with a glare, Rimmer arched an eyebrow. “You know that, don’t you?” 

Lister merely answered him with an audible, teasing pucker of lips.

With an amused roll of the eyes, Rimmer snared the man by the scarf and reeled him into a kiss before shoving him away with a snigger once more. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”


	27. It turns out either Lister or more likely Cat stole something pretty or gaudy from the SS Enconium which ends up being used in Christmas decorations somehow.

“Absolutely despicable, you’re a common thief.”

“Hey! They’re MY shiny things! You can’t have them!”

“What would I want with those gaudy trinkets, you modo?”

The argument was audible from quite some distance down the corridor. Cracking open his Leopard Lager from the nearby vending machine, Lister rolled his eyes with an amused shake of the head before finally letting his curiosity get the better of him. 

The Scouser slouched into the Sleeping Quarters, taking a large slug before gesturing to the bickering pair with the can with a sigh. “What are you two arguin’ about, for smeg’s sake? It’s Christmas - !” 

“It’s the 20th December,” Rimmer sniffed. “It’s not Christmas.”

“ - and today’s the day we’re decoratin’ the tree together,” Lister asserted without a beat of hesitation. “So hush up, the pair of you.” 

The hologram scowled but didn’t retaliate. “Well, we’re going to have a bit of an issue with that,” he muttered. “That B-Deck flood managed to destroy a lot of the storage boxes - ”

“ - and the Christmas decorations got wiped out,” the Cat added without glancing up, pawing through the box clutched protectively to his chest. “Sorry, bud.”

“You’re kiddin’!” Lister’s face pinched aghast before groaning sadly into another swig of lager. “What the smeg are we gonna do?”

“Something less childish?” Rimmer probed.

“Oh, shut up, y’Scrooge,” Lister sniped back before glancing mournfully around the Sleeping Quarters. “There must be somethin’ we could use.”

The hologram shrugged, nonchalant. Dark eyes swept around the room until they lit upon the Cat as he held up a pair of costume earrings to his lobes and a garish fake gold necklace across his chest before discarding them back into the box with a dismissive yowl. 

“Cat - ?” Lister did his best to hold back the grin that was attempting to stretch across his cheeks. “You know you wanted to know the unlock code for that vending machine that does sushi - ?”

An hour later, the Christmas tree was adorned with unstrung necklaces, peppered with pendants, and finished with a garish, fake-emerald brooch on the very top. Dusting off his hands, Lister stepped back to admire his handiwork. “So what do you think, man?”

Rimmer’s lip curled. “I think it looks tacky and completely over the top.” Arms folded, he shrugged in allowance. “Like all Christmas trees do.”

Smiling happily, Lister snuggled into the rigid hologram. It was perfect.


	28. A Red Dwarf Limerick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honour of World Limerick Day, I was challenged to write a Red Dwarf themed limerick. I’d just finished writing “Best Served Cold” and “Thanks For the Memory” which describe how Lister would use the phrase ‘tea with five sugars’ as code for sexy funtimes. Therefore, this limerick was written as a cheeky nod to the ‘five sugars’ saga.

Lister's smiling, that much he could see.  
But what could it possibly be?  
Oh, the penny's dropped now,  
With a waggling eyebrow  
And five sugars stirred into his tea...


	29. "Lister enjoying seeing Rimmer happy for a change."

Usually, the techno-babble drone of the man’s words would swiftly filter in one of Lister’s ears and out the other; his mind retaining about as much as he had done during Chemistry lessons in Year 8.

But something about the way that Rimmer’s face was alight, hazel eyes sparking with wonder, made him tune back in to what he’d been saying.

“...but, blow me, right there in the box was a Bradlington 7mm gold-weave copper-core! Isn't that brilliant, Listy?”

Personally, Lister couldn’t give two short smegs about vintage wire collections - after all, they sounded like the reserve of toffee-nosed dullards. But how long had it been since he'd seen the man smiling - even if it was just over a stupid wire he’d found on a derelict? 

Lister’s cheeks radiated in the warm glow of Rimmer’s obvious elation that he'd been so keen to share with him. His mouth tugged wide to return the smile that so rarely came to pass.

“Yeah,” Lister nodded fondly. “It’s not somethin' you see everyday, hey?”


	30. "Lister flirting with one of the printed waiter Rimmers to annoy his actual Rimmer."

“Nice get-up there, man.”

At seeing the unfamiliar face in a disappointingly-familiar crowd, the butler blinked his surprise before remembering himself. “Oh! Er - thank you, sir,” he mumbled, flustered. He gestured awkwardly to the tray in his hands, suddenly feeling rather self-conscious. “Champagne, sir?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Lister smarmed as he plucked up a glass, dark eyes not leaving his for a moment. 

“Pleasure, sir.” The words tumbled out before he knew they'd be so willingly forthcoming.

“Cute bow tie, by the way,” Lister flirted as he tweaked it unnecessarily, fingers lingering with deliberate intent. He clocked the bob of the man’s adam’s apple as he swallowed. “What time do you get off?”

“Uh, 8 o’clock, sir.”

The Scouser fixed him with a meaningful gaze, jutting his chin in invitation. “Perhaps at 8 o’clock, you'd like to get off with m-hey!”

Hooking him by the cravate, the uniform-bedecked Rimmer dragged the complaining man away. “Lister,” he ground out between gritted teeth. “A word about fraternizing with the staff -- ”

The butler watched sullenly as they left. Helping himself to the last champagne, he tutted in disappointment. “Bloody management,” he muttered into the glass.


	31. "Lister and Todhunter make Rimmer breakfast to comfort him after his latest exam failure."

Lister folded his arms at the sorry sight as Rimmer’s head repeatedly thudded on the bunkroom table. “It can't have been THAT bad, man?” he probed.

The Scouser glanced up as Todhunter gestured silently for his attention, a hurried shake of the head punctuated with a hand slashing at his throat.

“Ah.” Catching his meaning, Lister changed the subject with a grating of gears. “Er - well, Toddy and I thought we'd make you breakfast, y’know?” He rubbed sympathetically at Rimmer’s arm. “A full English brekkie to start off your day?”

“I don't do mushrooms,” Rimmer mumbled into the table.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Lister flashed an awkward smile at Todhunter who returned it with a knowing eyebrow. “But Frank’s a right whizz at it. Look. He's even snaffled some of the posh sausages from the Officer’s Deck.”

Rimmer hauled himself upright as the taller man placed the steaming offering in front of him. He had to admit that it did look and smell amazing. He blinked happily at the fried egg. “Sunny side up,” he noted with an undeniable smile. “How did you know?”

“Let’s just say I've got a knack for guessing people’s tastes,” Todhunter smarmed, rubbing at the tense knots in Rimmer’s shoulders. “Just like Mother used to make?”

“GOD, no.”

Todhunter patted the man’s arms in relief. “Thank smeg for that.”


	32. "Hattie!Holly's take on the Captain Lister universe. Up to you if there's something going on between the Captain and his Rimmer."

When she wasn't busy tackling countless calculations - an ability that her IQ of 6000 had bestowed upon her - Holly loved to read.

She enjoyed the stories about the unforeseen hero the best; the ones where the underdog beats the odds to end up on top. And that's what she’d adored about her Captain’s rise to power - loveable rogue that he was.

But her secret love was of romance novels, where the impossible relationship had to battle against the shackles of tradition to win out in the end. 

And if Pride and Prejudice was anything to go by, it was always the people who seemed to hate one another on the surface that harboured mutual passions bubbling just beneath the surface. Despite their respective spouses, the affair between the Captain and his Navigation Officer had hardly come as a surprise to her.

But sometimes real life wasn't like the books she loved so dearly. There weren't always happy endings. There weren't always sad endings either. Sometimes, things just....were.

Even with the ability to hold conversations with hundreds of personnel at the same time, sometimes deciphering the human complexities between four people was far too advanced for her.


	33. "Rose uses her ability to manipulate RimmerasAce's lightbee at an inopportune moment."

“Ace, we need to get going,” Rose called over the noise of the busy bar, studying her watch. “We’ve got to pick up some ammunition supplies before we head out to Dimension 211284. The optimum jump window will close in about an hour.” At his silence, she glanced up in expectation and immediately frowned as she realised his attention was lost elsewhere. “Ahem?”

Hazel eyes flitted back to hers. “Hmm? Sorry?”

She knew that look all too well. Even before she’d swivelled her stool round to clock the female Blerion sat further along the bar, she had guessed what had snared his interest. “We don’t need to pick up anything - or anyone - here,” she reminded him stiffly.

“Oh, come on, old girl!” Rimmer teased as he slid off the stool, eyes firmly on the prize. “A couple more hours isn’t going to hurt anyone.”

“But the jump window - !” Rose tailed off as her words fell on deaf ears. Watching him swagger over to the pretty GELF, her open-mouthed affront drew back into a playful smile. Well two could play at this game…

Rimmer noticed, with a rush of confidence, that the Blerion’s eyes lit up at his approach. His reputation obviously preceded him. “Couldn’t help but notice you from across the room there,” he smarmed as he slid onto the bar stool beside her, the dulcet, caramel tone of his ‘Ace’ voice now firmly in play.

The Blerion purred her approval, curling her tail flirtatiously around his leg. “Are you who I think you are?”

Just as Rimmer opened his mouth to speak, something decidedly odd happened. The same moment that Rose blinked deliberately, his entire projection buzzed before a stream of gobbledygook and childish noises sprouted forth unwillingly.

Leaning away, green eyes traced over him warily. “Pardon me?”

Mouth hung open in utter mortification, Rimmer’s projection flickered and distorted once more before he leapt off his stool and into a flailing rendition of a Morris dance whilst belting out ‘The Happy Wanderer’ at the top of his lungs.

“Are you alright?” the Blerion ventured carefully.

Another buzzing twitch of his projection returned him to normal, allowing Rimmer to peer around in embarrassment at the crowd that had turned to watch him. “Sorry,” he fumbled. “I er - I thought you might like - ” His image corrupted again before reforming completely naked. 

The Blerion gasped in shock before her expression retreated into an offended snarl, delivering him a sharp smack to the face. 

Rimmer’s hands darted southward to cover himself. “Oh, smeg!” he spluttered in his own voice rather than his alter ego’s. “I’m SO sorry! I - oh god!” He swivelled and fled, scuttling back to the now-smirking computer.

“Ready to go now, Ace?” she prodded innocently.

Cheeks aflame, Rimmer hurried towards the door with what little dignity was left of him. “Remind me to NEVER come back to this dimension again,” he mumbled.


	34. "Rimmer does some sort of fuckery with his light bee to keep Lister toasty one night when the heat on the ship is being dicey."

“Stupid smeggin’ heatin’,” Lister shivered through gritted teeth, cocooning himself closer into the cradle of Rimmer’s body. “I c-can't get warm.”

“Well maybe SOMEONE should have performed the scheduled maintenance checks,” Rimmer sniped smugly as he rubbed hard at the man’s arms. “It was on that timetable I made for you.”

“We were r-runnin’ low on b-bog roll,” Lister chattered. “What else was I supposed to use?”

“You - ?!” Rimmer bit back the rage that threatened to spurt forth and instead closed his eyes, deliberately allowing it to seethe and bubble through his projection. Only when he felt his bee begin to glitch did he let rip. 

“You are THE most irresponsible, lazy, semi-continent slob in this entire universe!” he spat. “Infuriating, reckless and COMPLETELY bloody disrespectful!”

“Steady!” Lister spluttered, mouth hung open in affront. “Why the smeg are you - ?”

He paused as he felt the warmth begin to radiate from the man behind him, seeping through his body in a soothing comfort. Lister glanced back over his shoulder to the hologram staring back at him knowingly.

“Thanks, man,” he whispered.

Rimmer jutted his chin to encourage him to turn back over. “Try and get some sleep,” he said simply. And with a snuggling sigh, muttered - “Git.”


End file.
